Page 7 of College Hockey Bully

She sounds so positive that it breaks my heart.

“Honey, I’m not asking you to sell your soul or anything. You loved Casey once and quite frankly, I think you’re still in love with her. You’ve been so angry and frustrated since that breakup and it worries me.” She reaches for my hands. “Take her back so we can both be happy again. Please.”

“Won’t her dad find it weird if you invite him to dinner now, when you’d never acknowledged him before?” I ask. My parents have a thing for only befriending people with more wealth than they have. Dad explained that smooching with theone percent is for motivational purposes, but they’re just stuck up.

Mom shrugs. “He won’t, if he thinks you’re serious about Casey this time.”

“Which I’m not.”

“Aiden, please—”

“I’ll think about it, Mom.”

She sighs gently. From that displeasure on her face, it’s definitely not what she wants to hear, but it’s all I can give. Whatever I still feel for Casey isn’t strong enough to make me want to be with her again.

I kiss Mom’s cheek before leaving. She crawls back into bed and her sobbing follows me down the hall, thankfully fading as I take the next flight of stairs to the third floor. Not for the first time, I wonder if I made a mistake staying at home instead of boarding at Hempton, although it’s only twenty minutes away. Here in the left wing, there are three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living and dining space, plus a huge balcony that gives me a view of our vast orchard, yet, I don’t feel at home here.

Especially these days.

I should be studying for an exam next week, but it’s hard to focus when so much has happened today. Especially running into Scarlett—well, it was the other way around. Either way, that little run-in disturbed me. As I peel my damp shirt off, I realize it’s more than my suspicion that she purposely wanted to trip me.

It was how my heart skipped a beat when she almost fell hard on that cold concrete.

It was the fear I saw in those big blue eyes.

It was my body’s response when I pulled her against me.

The way it’s responding now.

I stare down at my cock tenting my pants, wondering what the fuck is wrong with me. This isn’t high school, for fuck’s sake. I’m not a fifteen-year-old virgin getting aroused from a girl’s simple touch. I shouldn’t be getting rock hard from the simple thought of Scarlett’s soft curves molding into my body.

I shouldn’t be thinking of how perfect it felt.

I shouldn’t be wanting more.

Cursing my crazy—and wildly inappropriate hormones, I dump the shirt into the laundry basket and my pants soon follow. It was crazy, that feeling. And hot.So fucking hot.Just for a moment, spreading across my stomach, making me want to hold on for a little longer.

Definitely crazy.

Scarlett Pierce is the enemy. I have no business imagining her on her knees, my hand fisting that luscious hair, her mouth ready for every inch of me. I should be watching my back, ready for her to strike again.

And she will. Her sneaky attempt to run up on me had confirmed it. My instincts know it’s only a matter of time.

But she’s in for a disturbing surprise. It’s not like back in March, when she caught me off guard and almost ruined my life. This time, I’ll be ready. I meant what I said earlier: if Scarlett ever crosses me again, she’s going to wish for a time machine.

Chapter 3

Scarlett

Waving at my alarmed-looking neighbor, I roll my bike over the curb and park it beside the front steps. I don’t need a mirror to know why Mrs. Hemmings is staring at me like that. Drenched from head to toe from the pouring rain, mud all over my shoes, I feel like a rat that got sucked into the gutter. I probably look even worse.

I take my shoes off before entering the trailer home I share with my parents. The two-bedroom, living room and kitchen space feels cramped at times, but it could be worse. Like three years ago, before my big sister moved into her own home a few doors down with her new husband, thus ending our constant bickering for bed space.

Our home is small, but also spic and span, which is all that matters right now. Besides, this won’t last forever. I’m doing everything in my power to ensure that.

Milo, our ten-year-old Golden Retriever, bounds up to me with a delighted whimper. He tries to get in for the usual hug, but I ease him off me with a rub on his coat. “Sorry buds, but Mom will skin me alive if I get you wet, too.”

As I mention her name, she sticks her head from around the kitchen. “Merciful heavens. Scarlett! Did you seriously ride your bike in the rain?”

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